


But When Your Laughter Enters

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy finds Alfie Solomons in a less than menacing state. </p>
<p>'...but when your laughter enters<br/>it rises to the sky seeking me<br/>and it opens for me all<br/>the doors of life.'</p>
<p>  Your Laughter - Pablo Neruda</p>
            </blockquote>





	But When Your Laughter Enters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt.

“What happened to your face?”

He doesn’t mean to ask the question. It slips out of him at the sight of Solomons. Solomons turns sharp and quick, like he expects something else. When he sees it’s just Tommy standing there he almost relaxes.

Tommy says it again, as though the question will make more sense this time. It doesn’t work.

Solomons blinks at him. “What’s wrong with my face?”

Nothing. Tommy thinks of saying. He’s grown accustomed to Solomons’s face. The variety of expressions he bestows upon Tommy during their meetings often range from amused to exasperated to confused. Tommy enjoys it, as much as you can enjoy the face of a business acquaintance.

But this….Tommy wasn’t prepared for this. Solomons looks like he’s been rooting around in a coal scuttle searching for something long since hidden. His face is covered in soot, smudges under his eyes giving him a dark vulnerability that Tommy’s never seen in him before. Somehow there’s even soot in his beard. It makes Tommy hide a smile he didn’t know he had in him.

There’s no way to make Solomons more menacing, that he always is. The danger that shadows him is there regardless of whether Tommy acknowledges it or not. But seeing him like this is like seeing someone trying to make a mockery of him, and failing. This is not Alfie Solomons, or is it?

“What’s wrong with my face?” Solomons repeats, irritation rising in his throat.

“Here.” Tommy takes out his handkerchief and spits on it. Solomons just stares at him as Tommy leans across the desk and wipes it across his nose.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Solomons growls. He seizes Tommy’s wrist, staring down at the handkerchief in his fingers.

“You’re covered in soot.” Tommy explains. “How’d that happen?”

Solomons eyes the handkerchief again then rubs at his face with his free hand. It comes away messy.

“The devil.” He mutters, then laughs. “Ah, yes…”

The smile on his face makes the smudges crease and shade in different ways. Tommy is seized by the urge to rub his fingertips through each and every line. The crinkles at Solomons’s eyes make Tommy’s smile widen.

Solomons is still holding Tommy’s wrist. His thumb brushes Tommy’s cuff. Tommy’s still gripping the handkerchief with his spit and Solomons’s soot, oiling together on the linen. Whatever happened to him, Tommy doesn’t mind, and Solomons doesn’t care.


End file.
